


through the mid-ether

by Wolfsbane



Category: Mad Men
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/F, Femslash, Smut, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-07 10:20:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14078772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfsbane/pseuds/Wolfsbane
Summary: Joan and Peggy spend a night in an Atlanta hotel room.(Mad Men femslash challenge 2018)





	through the mid-ether

The original plan was to have Ted fly them down himself. They would leave New York shortly after breakfast, arrive in Atlanta just in time for their meeting with Barry from Avon, and fly back in the afternoon. They’d be home in time for a late dinner.

But when twelve year old Timmy Chaough fell down a steep incline while out on a hike with his Boy Scout troop and broke three out of his four limbs, both Ted and his plane were off to California, leaving Joan and Peggy to deal with Barry and Delta Airlines on their own.

Everything started out fine. They had arrived at the airport just in time to catch their seven am flight. The meeting with Barry went much better than either of them had expected it to go, and they arrived back at the airport just in time to catch their flight home.

And then Gerda happened.

Meteorologists had predicted that New York City would be right in the hurricane’s warpath so all airports had been closed as a precaution, and so Peggy and Joan had been put up in a hotel until it was deemed safe to travel.

The Enchanted Pines Inn sounded more like a Disney movie than an inexpensive hotel close to the Atlanta airport. It was dingy and looked as though the rooms hadn’t been redecorated since the prohibition era. They only had one room left so Joan and Peggy would have to share.

They found a small diner close to the hotel and settled down for dinner. Joan went to call her mother at the payphone outside while Peggy ordered them both burgers. Peggy was already halfway through hers when Joan reappeared looking extremely concerned.

“What’s wrong?” Peggy asked through a mouthful of fries.

“Kevin has the flu,” Joan told her, sitting down in the booth opposite Peggy.

“In September?” Peggy asked with a raised eyebrow.

“He’s in nursery school,” Joan explained. “Those places are breeding grounds for disease. It was only a matter of time.” She rifled through her purse and pulled out a cigarette and a lighter. “Jesus, of all the fucking days for a hurricane.”

“I understand, okay? I own my own building. I’m going to be the one responsible for repairs if it gets damaged. And I have a date tomorrow. I’m going to have to cancel it if we can’t get out on time.”

“You don’t understand at all,” Joan said, raising her voice slightly. The older couple at the next booth turned and looked at her. “I have to get home to my sick baby. You can’t compare that to a date and a fucking building.”

“It’s just the flu,” Peggy said, waving a hand. “He’ll be fine.”

“He’s three, Peggy. Kids his age can die from the flu because they have weak immune systems. I know dates are rare for you, but I only have one child.”

“It’s just the flu,” Peggy repeated, annoyed by Joan’s slight at her personal life. “Calm down, it’ll be okay.”

“You’re not a mother, Peggy. If you were, you’d know just how hard it is to be away from your child and unable to do anything to help home. You don’t understand what it’s like.”

Peggy grabbed her purse and furiously rifled through it. She slammed a few a dollars down on the table and stood up.

“I’m going back,” she told Joan. Peggy turned on her heel and strode out of the diner, leaving Joan alone at the table.

* * *

Peggy took another drag from her cigarette, letting the ashes drop down on to the street below. It was blisteringly hot and their hotel room had no air conditioner. Her clothes were completely drenched with sweat. She’d been sitting out on a plastic patio chair on hotel room’s small balcony for well over half an hour now, watching the planes fly overhead to and from the airport. It was almost comforting in a way, though she couldn’t help but feel jealous of the people whose cities were not potentially being ravaged by hurricanes and didn’t have to wait around for airports to reopen.

Peggy heard the sound of glass clinking against plastic and she looked up to see Joan depositing an armful of tiny bottles of gin and vodka onto the table next to Peggy.

“From the minibar,” Joan explained, holding a tiny bottle of gin out to Peggy.

“We’re going to get in trouble. Those things aren’t cheap,” Peggy said, but she took the bottle anyway.

“The agency’s five percent mine,” Joan pointed out. “Or it was anyway. I’ll be the one facing the blame.”

They sat together in silence for what felt like hours, drinking and watching the planes disappear into the night sky. Peggy was on her third mini bottle of gin when she finally spoke again.

“I’m sorry about what I said,” Peggy told Joan. “I wasn’t trying to trivialize your concerns. I was just trying to make you feel better, but I’ve never been very good at that.”

“I’m sorry too,” Joan admitted.

Peggy glanced up and eyed Joan with suspicion. The redhead had never apologized to Peggy before. Not that she could remember, anyway.

“Of course your little boy is more important than my date and my shitty building,” Peggy said with a sigh. “I hope he’ll be okay”

“He’ll be fine, he’s a tough little thing,” Joan said fondly. “I’m sorry about your date. You could still make it, you know.”

“It was a lunch date,” Peggy said.

He was a friend of a friend of one of Joyce’s co-workers and apparently refused to stay up past nine. That’s what Joyce had told her anyway. She hadn’t actually met him yet. She’d have to call Joyce to let her know she wouldn’t be able to make it before she went to bed.

“God I am so sick of dating,” Peggy said, leaning back in her chair. “I am so sick of _men_.”

“I know what you mean,” Joan told her. “Just be thankful that you’re not a twice divorced single mother in her late thirties who lives with her mother.”

Peggy stared at Joan. She was unused to the other woman being so candid.

“How could you ever have trouble with dating,” Peggy said in disbelief. “I mean, you’re _you_.”

“Peggy, men don’t want women with baggage,” Joan said as she pulled a cigarette out of her purse. “And I have a whole apartment full.”

“I can’t believe you and Greg got a divorce,” Peggy said. “You always looked so perfect together. You were so… beautiful. The type of couple you only see in magazines.”

“Looks can be deceiving,” Joan said stiffly. She cracked open another mini bottle of vodka and took a swig.

“What happened,” Peggy asked, unable to help herself.

Joan went stonyfaced.

“He was not the man he appeared to be,” she said simply.

Peggy waited for Joan to elaborate but she didn’t.

“What really happened with you and that guy?” Joan asked instead. “The journalist. You two seemed happy together.”

“Abe? I stabbed him,” Peggy admitted, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

Joan giggled. “No, really. What happened?”

“I mean it,” Peggy said, giggling along with her. “I really did stab him. I thought he was an intruder.”

Joan burst out laughing. Peggy couldn’t help but laugh too. They were _really_ drunk.

“Oh my god,” Joan said, between fits of laughter. “I’m sorry. So it had nothing to do with Ted?”

“Ted?” Peggy repeated, trying to act as if she had no idea what Joan was talking about.

“Peggy, it was obvious. You’re not exactly subtle. What exactly happened with you two.”

“He told me he was leaving his wife.” Peggy sighed. “Then he got cold feet and ran off to California with her. Now he’s divorced and pretending like nothing ever happened between us.”

“God, I know what that’s like,” Joan said.

“Roger?” Peggy pressed hesitantly.

Joan nodded.

“Stan was convinced you had a thing together,” Peggy told her. “I told him to mind his own business,” she added quickly.

“Did you and Stan ever-”

“No!” Peggy exclaimed. “He’s like a brother to me. He’s tried though. How long did you and Roger have a thing together?”

“About ten years, on and off,” Joan answered. “Kevin’s his, not Greg’s.”

Peggy choked on her gin.

“Seriously?” she sputtered, the alcohol burning her throat.

“Seriously.”

“Does Greg know?” Peggy asked.

“He never said anything,” Joan told her. “But I’m sure he suspected something. He is a doctor. A terrible doctor, but a doctor nonetheless.”

“I… had a baby too.” Peggy took a deep breath. Why was she telling Joan this? She’d never told anyone, not even Abe and they dated for three years. “I put him up for adoption. I was twenty-one.”

Peggy watched Joan do the math in her head.

“You mean…” Joan leaned in closer. “The fat farm?”

“Yes,” Peggy confirmed with a small nod.

“Was it… with Paul?” Joan asked tentatively.

“What?” Peggy screwed up her face in disgust. “God no!”

“You don’t need to sound so disgusted you know,” Joan said, acting offended.

Peggy quietly admonished herself. She’d forgotten that Joan and Paul had dated before she’d come to work at Sterling Cooper.

“I’m sorry,” Peggy said. She closed her eyes and paused, unsure if she was really willing to admit what she was about to admit. “It was Pete.”

“Pete Campbell?”

Peggy nodded.

“You’re kidding.”

“Would I joke about something like that? I _wish_ I was kidding.”

“You and Pete.” Joan shook her head. “I thought I knew everything that went on in that office.”

“It was only twice really,” Peggy said. “But apparently that was enough. Your doctor didn’t tell me I had to wait at least a month for the pills work.”

“So this is my fault now? I’m not the one who slept with Pete. _Pete!_ ”

Peggy and Joan both burst into laughter.

“Neither of us has had great luck with men, have we?” Joan said, attempting to contain her guffaws.

“I don’t understand it,” Peggy admitted. “I mean, obviously I understand why I’m not great with guys. But you- you’re perfect.”

“Nobody’s perfect, Peggy,” Joan said softly.

“You’re not nobody,” Peggy said.

“Do you ever think… maybe we’re just not meant to be with men?” Joan asked hesitantly.

“I don’t understand,” Peggy murmured.

“I think you do,” Joan said.

Peggy couldn’t explain why she did what she did next. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the bizarre experience of being on the other end of the country with Joan. Maybe it was from the excitement of finally getting to know Joan’s real self after almost a decade of working with her.

Peggy kissed her.

She leaned right across the table, knocking three of the empty bottles off, and planted a small peck on her plump red lips.

For a few seconds, Joan could only stare at Peggy.

Then she stood up, took Peggy by the hand, led her back into the hotel room and pushed her against the wall. Joan slid the zipper of the other woman’s skirt down with one hand and made an attempt at unbuttoning her blouse with her other hand. Peggy’s skirt fell to the floor and she looked down and was mortified to realize she was wearing her beige control panties. Joan pulled Peggy’s now completely-unbuttoned blouse off and threw it to floor, her hands moved to Peggy’s bra, unhooking it easily, and she threw it down next to her shirt. As Joan’s hands moved to Peggy’s underwear, the other woman lightly swatted them away.

“No,” Peggy said softly. It had been months since she had any reason to shave her crotch and that whole area, to put it bluntly, was a mess. She’d been dating, of course, but she’d never gotten past the first date with any of those guys, and she’d been making a concerted effort to not let them into bed immediately. That was partly why her nether regions looked like an abandoned garden. It was easier to turn men down when she was too embarrassed to let them see her naked. Well, that and laziness.

She was ashamed to let Joan see it. She put her hands around Joan’s waist and switched their positions so that now the redhead’s back was against the wall. She unzipped Joan’s dress and pulled it off, throwing it down next to her own clothing. Joan was wearing exquisite lacy pink matching lingerie. Her milky white breasts were perfect and round.

Peggy’s fingers trembled as her hand slid Joan’s panties down her legs. Joan’s own bush was spectacularly groomed, a perfect little golden-brown patch between her legs. She lowered herself onto her knees and gently ran a finger over Joan’s clit. She heard a whimper of pleasure from above her.

Emboldened, Peggy carefully slid a finger up Joan’s vagina and started rubbing against the other woman’s clit with her other hand, increasing the speed as Joan’s breathing became more and more labored. She stuck two more fingers up, and started thrusting her hand in and out.

Joan moaned out and slumped against the wall, a contented smile on her face. Pleased with herself, Peggy wiped her hands on her discarded clothes. Her fingers were tired and aching, but it was worth it.

“My turn,” Joan declared, and gently guided Peggy over to the bed. Her hands lightly grazed the top of Peggy’s underwear.

“Don’t,” Peggy whispered, her hand resting on the band of her panties, though her own vagina was begging to be touched. She was practically swimming in her panties.

“Peggy, it’s fine,” Joan said, in a gentler manner than Peggy was accustomed to from her. “I know what I’m in for.”

Peggy nodded and laid back into the bed. Joan kissed Peggy on the lips and worked her way down her chest, planting kisses on each of her nipples. Peggy watched Joan’s head move down to her crotch, and then moved her gaze to the ceiling, allowing Joan to remove her underwear. She closed her eyes just as she felt Joan’s lips around her clit and allowed the other woman’s touch to envelop her.

Joan was only the fourth person to perform this act on her and she was by far the best. Peggy couldn’t help but be surprised at just how good she was at it. Just how much experience did Joan have? Had there been other women in Joan’s past? She had never really thought about it before but it was a possibility. Joan was better than Abe, Ted, and Duck combined, though that really wasn’t much of a feat. Peggy let out a loud moan as her pleasure reached a climax.

Consumed by ecstasy, Peggy could faintly make out a banging sound in the background, which was either the headboard banging against the wall or the annoyed occupant of the room next door.

Joan crawled up the bed and landed on the pillow next to Peggy with a thump. Her face was wet with sweat and the remnants of Peggy’s orgasm.

“That was incredible,” Peggy whispered, completely out of breath.

Joan merely grinned and pulled Peggy closer. Peggy nestled against Joan’s shoulder. She’d definitely have to cancel her date now.

**Author's Note:**

> Hurricane Gerda completely bypassed New York and most of New England and became extratropical after making landfall in Maine.
> 
> This was my first time writing smut. So, uh, please be nice.


End file.
